The Dark Elf band spent three days and three nights deliberating on the matter.
It was simply too outlandish, too momentous a decision to rush.
The food they had been given was ample, and though they could not be called fully restored, their strength had largely recovered.
Hardly had they returned before they threw themselves into the discussion without rest, sparing not even sleep, and the subject was naturally whether or not to become the King's subjects.
The one who had given them sustenance—this was the being written of in legend as the King of Ruin.
It was true that they had been driven to desperation, but that did not mean there was no natural unease over whether they should simply nod along and accept his terms without question.
And this was no ordinary king among the countless ones they had served before.
As the Elder Mortar spoke of him, this was the king who would one day destroy the world and return all things to nothingness—the King of the End.
His power was absolute; as mortal men, resistance was impossible.
Once a pact was struck, their very souls would become his possessions, most likely.
A choice so ultimate that even death offered no release—it was this that nearly the entire tribe had gathered to deliberate on. No one of age was excluded from the discussion; not even those who had only just learned to speak were spared the decision. Infants who had barely begun to form words were pressed to make their choice, and the only ones not participating were the babies sleeping at their mothers' breasts.
In the end, after lengthy debate, it was decided unanimously: they would become the King's vassals.
They had no other path forward.
Rather than sitting idle and waiting for death, it was surely preferable to cling to life even if it meant falling to a wicked existence.
Above all, they never forgot the mercy that had filled their bellies.
Whether he was a dark being, the King of Ruin who would bring about the apocalypse—compared to the magnitude of the grace they had received, it was no great matter.
Before long, everyone was wrapped in the feeling of a heavy burden lifted from their shoulders, having completed their momentous choice.
At the same time, they sensed something akin to certainty: from this point on, their lives would be utterly unlike anything before.
… …
The decision that could be called their destiny was made two days ago.
And today was the day their souls would be seared with the knowledge of what that outcome would bring.
Soon, the king would arrive at their campsite.
It should have been them to go to him, but Atou proposed that having a group of five hundred descend upon him would be an inconvenience, so it was decided the king would come to them instead.
The area was held in an unnatural silence. No one spoke aloud, but the air was thick with a mixture of anxiety, anticipation, and fear.
All the Dark Elves knelt, heads bowed low, simply waiting for the moment to come.
It was Elder Mortal’s judgment: to avoid incurring the king’s displeasure, and that there are some things best left unseen.
Before long, the sound of a twig snapping underfoot echoed several times, and two sets of footsteps approached their position.
"The king has arrived, everyone," Elder Mortal announced in a single, flat sentence. Then, from the depths of the forest, two shadows emerged.
Though the chieftain and the war chiefs had warned them not to look the king directly in the eye, several of the younger Dark Elves, driven by curiosity, stealthily raised their heads.
In that same instant, they were struck by a terror that engulfed their entire beings, and they immediately regretted their action.
It was a pitch-black abyss.
Something in the shape of a man was there. It was as if a flaw in the world had occurred—an impossible distortion that could not be cleansed, leaving behind a black stain.
Something was there, emanating an indescribable eeriness.
The being they would soon call king was the very embodiment of ruin.
One of the more timid individuals let out a small, choked gasp, and was immediately elbowed in the ribs by the person beside them.
The young children… whether by instinct for survival, they stifled their cries and buried their faces in their mothers’ chests.
Even among their ranks, those who were supposed to be versed in martial ways trembled openly, their fear unchecked.
Even these men, who loyally obeyed their leader's commands, were in such a state.
The young one before had already wet himself, and there was even one foaming at the mouth who had fainted.
He could not understand what they were thinking at all.
That was everything they saw in Takuto Ira.
They had simply made their decision.
To become the people of the kingdom forged by the King of Ruin.
To take this place as their new homeland after their wanderings, and to walk a new life under the protection of the pitch-black existence.
Atou, the king's subordinate, exchanged a few words with Old Mortar, receiving some explanation.
Eventually, urged by Old Mortar, the king sat upon the slightly ungainly throne hastily constructed for this occasion alone, and gave a small nod to the girl standing beside him.
"Then here, we officially accept your group of Dark Elves as immigrants to my nation, Mynoghra. Our King, Takuto Ira. Is this acceptable?"
The girl declared.
Her voice, though not particularly loud, carried clearly, ringing with dignity.
After nodding once more to her words, the king responded with satisfaction,
"'OK'. Be well."
In that instant, the king's words pierced from their ears into the very core of their being, caressing their souls alongside a bone-deep chill that felt as if it would freeze them solid.
"Congratulations. You are now citizens of Mynoghra. All happiness and tranquility shall be promised under the name of the great King, Takuto Ira."
Atou's declaration, imbued with an invisible force, concluded, and the palpable tension in the air eased somewhat.
She herself seemed to have been a bit nervous as well, her face breaking into a soft smile.
And then silence, uncanny in its completeness, settled over the scene.
"C-Chief Warrior. Is the ritual over now, then?"
"I believe so. Though there is no movement... What ought we to do?"
The lore-loving female Emru whispered to her squad leader, Gia. Such ritualistic proceedings were unfamiliar to her, and more than that, the sensation that they were now citizens of Mynoghra—evil beings—had not yet truly sunk in.
What now? she wondered.
The king and his Atou subordinates ahead showed no signs of movement either, appearing lost in thought. Should they remain like this a while longer? Would someone offer instruction?
Her feet were starting to ache.
It was at the moment these various thoughts swirled within the group of newly made Dark Elf citizens, including Emru, that it happened.
Their hearts pounded. An unbearable rage welled up within their chests.
It was hatred for all living things. Above all, it was a searing, boiling hatred for everything that had persecuted them, wounded them, and sneered at their worthlessness. If commanded now by their king, they would joyfully slaughter every last living being.
This unfamiliar anger brought them both confusion and searing pain.
Simultaneously, an immense emotion enveloped them, one that smothered that boiling hatred utterly. Compared to this new feeling, the thoughts that had dominated their minds moments ago—raging like a torrential flood—were but the gentle murmur of a brook.
This calm emotion was coming from a specific place.
Their gazes converged as one. There stood their king of ruin, Takuto Ira.
"Are you alright?"
Only then, finally, did they grasp the truth in their very souls.
The king had been worried for them. He had given them food out of genuine pity for their circumstances, an act of unconditional mercy with no ulterior motive.
That from the beginning, the king had never harbored even a thought of harming them.
That he was still watching over them now, concerned as they clutched their chests, enduring the change within their souls.
This fact, for the first time, gave them the joy of being sheltered.
It was an infinite relief, arriving from the deepest darkness.
The ecstasy of knowing the great king of ruin was looking upon them.
The certainty that all enemies would prostrate themselves before the king and be left as corpses.
The infinite joy that, after suffering and tragedy, they had finally found a place to belong.
All these emotions churned into a storm within them, eventually transforming into a heat bordering on madness.
It was fanaticism. At the same time, it was a loyalty commensurate with the immense grace they had received.
The dark elves from this moment onward were reborn, transformed into citizens of the evil Mynoghra.
"Long, long live! Long live the great king, Lord Takuto Ira!"
One of the young men, overcome with emotion, raised his hand and shouted. It was the pathetic man who had lost control of his bladder earlier.
But now, only pride and profound feeling swirled within him.
The excitement quickly spread to those beside him, and soon the entire group was enveloped in a frenzied vortex.
Even the warrior chief, Gear, and the elder, Mortar, were shedding tears of deep emotion while speaking words of praise for Takuto one after another.
Atou, standing beside them, nodded with satisfaction, as if to say this was only natural.
Loyalty is offered to the king. Fanaticism converges upon the king.
Receiving all of it, the great king of ruin simply, and as was to be expected,
"Ohh."
he let out a gasp of admiration.
=Message===
The nation has been established with the participation of its people.
Under our great leader, praise Mynoghra!
―――
=Eterpedia===
[Mynoghra] Nation
Alignment : Evil
Selectable Leaders : 'The Nameless Evil God', 'Atou the Filth', 'Isla the Queen of All Insects'
Aspiration : <Doomsday Focus> <Erosion Focus> <Internal Affairs Focus>
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~~The Nameless God's Kingdom of Ruin~~
The origin of Mynoghra is uncertain.
It is said to have existed in this world since before the world itself was born, created by an evil god of unknown name who came from a different dimension than the good god Aros.
Its characteristics as a nation include a powerful affinity for various evil attributes and its prodigious reproductive capabilities.
By tipping the world's balance toward evil, the game can be played more advantageously, but caution is needed as the initial rise is very slow.
―――